


Bang

by FaithWinchester



Series: Slayer's Little Secret [5]
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV), Supernatural
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-27
Updated: 2019-11-27
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:33:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 780
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21587665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FaithWinchester/pseuds/FaithWinchester
Summary: Small hands, big trouble
Relationships: Dawn Summers/Sam Winchester
Series: Slayer's Little Secret [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1535921
Kudos: 7





	Bang

He was going to die. Demons, vampires, wendigos and werewolves had all tried and failed to end Dean Winchester’s life, but fatherhood was going to do the trick.  
  
He hadn’t meant to put Angel in danger. They didn’t bring her along when they actually went _looking_ for trouble. When trouble found them, though, _“That’s her, boys, the Winchester kid. Grab her and lets get the hell out of here”_ well, that was what her training was for, right? She was good, they'd taught her well. _So why was his heart beating so hard it was about to shatter his ribs?_  
  
Six years old was young, even for a Winchester, but her small hands gripped the pistol firmly, finger steady on the trigger _just the way they’d practiced_ as she leveled the barrel of Dean’s gun _he’d lost it when the baseball bat hit the back of his head_ at the man moving toward her. He was a man, too, not a monster _at least not a supernatural one_ and that was confusing the hell out of Dean. _What the hell did a handful of human guys want with Dean's kid?_ There were two men holding him down, one kneeling on his chest with a gun on him and the other struggling to bind his hands as he fought them _fought to get to her_. He could hear Sam on the other side of the car _shoes scuffing the pavement, fists on flesh_ struggling with at least two others. Dawn was lying on the ground, _there’s blood on the blacktop, it looks like oil_ unconscious, not too far from where Dean was being held.  
  
“Don’t come any closer.”  
  
Her voice rang out, high and clear _he could hear the slight tremble, she was scared_ in the cold night air. The man in front of her smiled, his hands out at his sides as if to show he was harmless and he kept moving forward, slowly now.  
  
“Put the gun down, honey, before someone gets hurt,” he told her and her eyes narrowed _damn, she looked like Faith_ at him.  
  
“’M not your honey,” she told him. “Stop moving or I’m gonna shoot you.”  
  
The man just smiled and kept coming closer and Dean saw him reach back _metal glinted in the moonlight_ to the waistband of his jeans.  
  
“Gun, Angel, he’s got a gun!” _don’t let him get closer, baby girl, kill his ass_ Dean shouted. He saw her finger tighten on the trigger, saw her chest heaving _she’s terrified, if she kills him she’ll have to live with it forever_ as she struggled to stay calm. She bit her lower lip, the way she did when they practiced shooting and he knew she was aiming _she was a good shot, almost never missed_ at either the heart or the head. Dean forced his eyes away from Angel _they’d deal with the fallout later at least she’ll be alive_ to see her attacker pulling his gun. A shot rang out _Dean’s heart stopped_ and the man fell dead to the pavement, a bullet through the side of his head.  
  
The two men holding Dean down were startled enough by the shot _Sam standing in the moonlight, holding his gun, breathing hard, his lip bleeding from the fight as he saved his niece from having to pull the trigger, take that life_ that he was able to throw them off and get to his feet. He scrambled across the pavement _their attackers were running away and he couldn't bring himself to care, all that mattered was her_ and fell to his knees beside Angel, taking the Colt from her hands and thumbing the safety on before dragging her harshly against his chest. She clenched small hands in his shirt and he felt her release a shaking breath.  
  
“Did they hurt you, Daddy?” she asked, her voice muffled by the way she’d pressed her face into his chest.  
  
“No way, baby,” he promised _shit, his hands wouldn’t stop shaking_ as he stroked her hair.  
  
“Did I do good?” she asked, raising her head to look up at him _tears shone in her eyes and Dean wanted to bring the bastard back to life and kill him again_.  
  
“You were awesome,” he told her. She looked behind her, toward Dawn _Sam was helping her sit up and her eyes were open_ and then back at Dean.  
  
“You think she’d be proud of me?”  
  
Dean blinked, for a moment thinking she meant Dawn and then he realized _that reverent tone of voice was reserved for only one person_ she meant Faith.  
  
“Yeah, Angel,” he told her, his voice rough. “She’d be damned proud of you.”


End file.
